


your favorite prize

by Blake



Series: 30 Days of Depeche Mode Bagginshield ficlets [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bag End, Fluff, M/M, Picnics, The Acorn, The Shire, everyone lives nobody dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake
Summary: The King of Erebor is now Bilbo Baggins’ favorite slave.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: 30 Days of Depeche Mode Bagginshield ficlets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705147
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	your favorite prize

**Author's Note:**

> for "your favorite slave"

Thorin swathes himself in epithets that have only to do with Bilbo Baggins. The Slayer of Azog is now the gardening assistant of Bag End. The Reclaimer of Erebor is now Bilbo’s dishwasher. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, becomes that peculiar dwarf who lives with that odd Baggins fellow. The former hardest-working blacksmith west of the Misty Mountains hones his craft toward bringing Bilbo pleasure, making Bilbo happy, and making pretty things to decorate their house with.

He trades his oaken shield for a living tree, sprouted from the acorn Bilbo brought across Middle Earth, planted in the soil by their joined, dirty hands.

He spends a great deal of time looking at the sapling. It pleases him to consider how long the tree will grow, how many generations it will provide shade to. A much better legacy than a piece of dead bark desperately used to fend off a hateful attack.

“You have the most beautiful smile in the whole world,” Bilbo tells him wistfully while they picnic in the grass under the cherry tree. Thorin tears his gaze from the tiny oak tree. Bilbo’s eyes are crinkled in joy, and his curls reflect gold in the summer sun.

“I can guarantee that you are the only person in the whole world to ever say or think so,” he says, helpless to keep his smile from growing even wider as he watches Bilbo’s toes clutch happily in the greenery.

“Well, I must be blessed with the gift of perception, then, seeing as you have my favorite smile in all of history.” Bilbo’s smile is wry and bitable, red and commanding.

Thorin looks back to the sapling in order to avoid falling forward just to beg for a kiss. “I am happy you keep me around for such a small prize as my smile.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Bilbo scolds, a note of the ridiculous in his voice. “You also have my favorite beard, in fact the only one I care for at all. And my favorite cock, let’s not forget that. Not a small prize at all. And you’re my favorite cook! Even though you only know how to make mushroom stew. It’s a magnificent stew.”

Bilbo stops there, chewing a piece of cheese and strawberry while looking up at the sky. “Is that all?” Thorin asks, full of the kind of amusement that so easily turns to arousal.

As though sensing that Thorin is on the verge of climbing on hands and knees to get a taste of absolution, Bilbo gives him a haughty look, his sweetly sloped nose kissing the sky. “You are also my favorite servant,” he declares, biting into another berry, sending Thorin’s stomach plummeting to the forges in the depths of his soul. “You do a sound job of plowing my fields when I ask you to. And you follow direction quite nicely. Very amenable and—well, pliable.”

Thorin curls up on his side, clutching grass in his hands and waiting for permission to touch. His body feels pleasantly warm under the sun and under the pleasure of all of the meaning Bilbo gives to his existence.


End file.
